Let It All Burn
by hermione-is-my-spirit-animal
Summary: Hermione Granger is very certain of many things in her life. Up until now, she has been certain that some things are just black and white – evil and good, night and day. But she has been lying to herself. There are shades of gray. And Malfoy is just that.
1. Prelude

**A/N: This is my first ever fanfic, yeeee. It takes place somewhere during HBP, so you should probably have read that and Deathly Hallows, too, before reading this. I don't want to be a life ruiner. Rated T for now but that will possibly change. **

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><p>"But… you hate me. You've always hated me," Hermione said, her voice faltering with uncertainty. Images filtered through her mind as she replayed their interactions over and over, reliving harsh words, and the feel of her fist barreling into his face.<p>

He said nothing for a long moment, and that silence was everything. She just stared at him, scanning his face, trying to read something in his carefully blank expression. Neither of them moved or made a sound.

"You'd think so," he drawled, breaking their eye contact.

"I… I'd _think_ so?" she burst out. "You've, you've insulted me a thousand times. You called me Mudblood!" she spat out the word. And widened her eyes when he actually flinched away. As if he was ashamed.

"I was a child, Granger," he said softly.

"As if that excus-"

"I'm sorry."

The words hung heavy in the air between them. She blinked and stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted wings.

"But… I-"

Malfoy rolled his eyes at her and asked, "Didn't your stupid Muggle parents teach you anything?" She bristled at his words, but he continued on. "Sometimes… sometimes boys are mean to girls they like." There was a faint touch of red to his pale cheeks. She couldn't believe he was saying this. She imagined he couldn't believe he was saying this, either. She had no idea how they had happened into this conversation, or how they were alone in a room without hexing each other or flinging insults back and forth.

Maybe they had grown up.

Dark shadows haunted his pale grey eyes. He was somber and tense now, avoiding her gaze. She wondered how much it had taken him to tell her this. He already seemed so tired all the time.

"Why are you telling me this now?" she asked him. "Do… do you still like me?"

He scowled at her. "Don't flatter yourself," he snarled, some of his old venom spilling into his words. She realized he was lying – it was written all over his face. "Just forget it." He made to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm before he could go. They were both startled at the contact. She had only touched him in anger before.

His jaw clenched, he turned to face her. He was close, closer than he had ever been to her. She felt unsettled down to her bones. "What," he growled, "do you want from me?"

"The truth."

She locked eyes with him. She could have sworn the world slowed to a stop, and she lived the moment each second at a time. He closed the gap between them and bent his head to kiss her. The contact was brief, electric. His lips were so soft.

He pulled away and left her there. She stood there alone for a long time, running a finger along her bottom lip. It was…nothing. It had barely been a kiss.

No, no, she decided later when she was finally back in her dorm. She lied awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. No. It had taken him everything to kiss her. It was _something_.


	2. Chapter One: Shades of Gray

Hermione Granger is very certain of many things in her life. She is certain that if you study hard and read late into the night, your grades will soar. She is certain that she could never find worthier friends than Harry Potter or Ron Weasley. She is certain, too, that together they can do anything, including vanquish a dark and evil man.

Up until now, she has been certain that some things are just black and white – evil and good, night and day. But she has been lying to herself. There are shades of gray.

Her mouth is in a hard, thin line when he comes up behind her and, very lightly, taps her on the shoulder. She jumps at the touch and scowls when she sees it's him.

"Malfoy," she says, the name a bitter word in her mouth.

Her shade of gray.

She can't quite think of him as purely evil anymore. He is just… human to her. There is a part of her that hopes he can see her in the same light. Not Pureblood versus Mudblood, or Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Just human.

He had ignored her for three days, but found himself alone with her now.

To everyone but Hermione and Draco, things had seemed normal, but Draco was pointedly avoiding her, and she had let it get to her in a way she neither liked nor understood. Hermione liked understanding things. She liked being certain. But this? This she could not wrap her head around.

She couldn't believe he had kissed her.

And he couldn't believe it, either. He replayed the moment frame by frame, not understanding why she had let him do it. He had expected a slap, or to be shoved away. He could still see her face just after he had pulled away. She had been so close, close enough to count the freckles on her cheeks. He had seen everything in her eyes – there was confusion, mostly.

Yeah, he mused. You and I both.

Before her, he had never understood how it was possible to both hate and – like something. Her blood made her filthy to him. She was bossy, and he found she had a kind of arrogance that could rival his own. Not to mention her choice of friends. The-Idiot-Boy-Who-Lived and his dimwitted ginger sidekick. She was better than them.

He paused at that line of thought.

Better than them? She was a Mudblood. The only thing worse than a Mudblood was a sodding Muggle.

The fact that he had to reassure himself of his beliefs was not very promising.

He meets her eyes now, and there is something steadying in them. Something warm. "What," he asks her.

She glares. "You tell me," she says. "You came to me."

He is rooted to the spot, unable to look away from her, unable to form the words just waiting on his tongue. He doesn't know how to speak around her in this new world that burst forth when he kissed her. A move that has set everything upside down for him. He doesn't know what to think about anything, anymore.

Nothing in his life has made sense for a long time.

The dark mark literally still burns on his arm, painful to the touch. Raw skin and dark ink. A brand he does not particularly relish. He is tasked with a job he does not particularly enjoy, and he feels the strain of it. A constant pressure. He does not wish to die.

Hadn't his family been through enough?

And now here was this girl. She was fire and venom and spark. She had punched him in the face. She was –

"I'm waiting for an answer." Her tone is sharp, cutting through his muddled thoughts.

"I- I don't know."

A trace of pity softens her face. He was worn and frayed at the edges, so dark and somber. "You seem… alone," she says finally.

"What are you talking about, Granger?"

"I don't mean _lonely,_" she clarifies. "Just, alone.

He has no idea where she is coming up with this, but it nicks close to the bone. He has friends, of course. He has family. But he is incredibly alone in the task handed to him by the Dark Lord, by this role placed upon his shoulders. His family expects him to be this dark hero. He can't tell them or anyone that he is scared. That he is unprepared.

"What happened on Monday…" he trails off. He meets her eyes again with a steely resolve. "It never happened."

"If you say so."

"Listen, you little Mudblood-"

"That's your fallback, isn't it? Resorting to name-calling like a child. I have thicker skin, now, Malfoy. Find something else to hurt me with. And… didn't you just apologize for using that same word the other day?"

She is insufferable. He clenches his teeth. "I said it never happened."

"But it did," she says plainly. She is unafraid of him. "Is that the best you've got? Pretending it never happened?"

"Stop talking," he groans, as his persistent headache slides into migraine territory. He is always achy. He is always tired.

There is too much in his head, always.

"Are you alright?" she asks, reaching up to touch the side of his head. He slaps her hand away before she can touch him.

"Leave me alone!"

"Then _go!_ If all you came here to say was that 'it never happened,' and now you're just going to be a giant prat, then you can leave me alone yourself, Draco Malfoy!"

They are silent. She stares at him angrily, her cheeks flushed with anger. She is so full of life.

He feels dead.

"Just… run away, like you did before!"

He barely hears her shrill voice. He can feel the blood pounding in his head.

"_Coward!_"

It is that last venomous word that shakes him awake.


End file.
